in the basement

in the basement

of a preschool

while outside

with binoculars

jupiter is visible

you turn away

from the astral plane

and learn to receive

lessons again

with old art

arranged just so

around holes

in the wall

and player piano

sheet music

up where glow-in-the-dark

stars would go

you two drew

dot-to-dots

to constellate

your own fate

we’re in

this poem now

a cozy work

in progress

just like that home

whose address

I didn’t know

but thought I could find

by driving up and down

that road at dusk

because piecing things

together alone

had been all I’d known

for so long

tucked in between

the ugly typical

mcmansions

of first person

and both second

singular and plural

fourth and even

somewhere out of sight

in the mouths of others

the leering turrets

of third person

there is a hidden

form of address

only you and I

can access

that beautiful dialogue

that keeps a relationship alive